


Little Red & the Wolf

by AphAfterDark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Come Inflation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hopeful Ending, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Light Mind Break, M/M, Other, Predator/Prey, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Werewolves, light Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphAfterDark/pseuds/AphAfterDark
Summary: Everyone knows the Kerberos Woods are haunted. They border the Garrison, and the first thing that students are told is that they’re strictly forbidden. Every rumor about the woods is stranger than the last, and not even in the ways that kids dare each other to go in. People have died in the woods, disappeared in the woods.Shiro may be the best navigator the Garrison has ever known, but those woods are something other. The Garrison loses contact with the mission team within a month.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Wolf
Comments: 15
Kudos: 220





	Little Red & the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> **READ THE TAGS!!!!**
> 
> **Content warnings: hard dubcon to start, slides toward consent or light mindbreak, you decide. keith gets fucked by the wolf herein, he has a bad/good time and suffers, but no permanent injury. light violence for werewolves having claws, small mention of blood. this is pre/post kerb, but keith's age is never mentioned. happy sheith ending herein.**

Everyone knows the Kerberos Woods are haunted. They border the Garrison, and the first thing that students are told is that they’re strictly forbidden. Every rumor about the woods is stranger than the last, and not even in the ways that kids dare each other to go in. People have died in the woods, disappeared in the woods.

Most people don’t even like talking about Kerberos.

They _feel_ wrong is the thing. Even standing at the edge of the Garrison lawn, looking out toward them, there’s a sort of black, ominous aura.

So of course the Garrison starts talking about a Kerberos Mission for sample gathering and exploration.

Adam is the first to protest Shiro going, and the resulting fight is so explosive Keith just swallows down his similar misgivings. He knows Shiro has always wanted an important mission like this, he’s been craving something more exciting than training cadets with the time he has left.

Keith just wishes it wasn’t _this_ mission. He wishes it wasn’t Kerberos, that it wasn’t Shiro tasked as navigator. But Shiro’s the best navigator they’ve had in ages, so of course it’s him. And Shiro is Shiro, so of course he jumps at the opportunity, danger be damned.

The next few weeks are rough though. Shiro won’t hear any naysaying on his decision, and the result is that Adam and Shiro’s relationship doesn’t make it through. When they break it off, Keith tries not to be secretly pleased. Tries not to preen when all of Shiro’s attention turns toward him. Instead of Adam getting the tour of the team and their equipment for the mission, it’s Keith at Shiro’s side. It’s Keith who listens to Shiro’s excitement for the mission, and Keith that gets Shiro’s dog tags as a gift when he gets a brand new set for the mission.

It’s still hard though. In the end it is Keith who gets to watch Shiro and the other team members disappear into the woods. He smiles until they disappears, but his heart is heavy with dread. Shiro may be the best, but those woods are something _other_.

The Garrison loses contact within the month.

Keith takes the news back to his dorm and curls up under the comforter in the dark. He tells himself he won’t cry, but if there’s some muffled shouting and pounding of fists, then no one’s around to witness anyway. There’s no one to witness, no one to ask. Keith’s been an orphan for so long there’s only ever been Shiro.

A week later the Garrison makes a statement on the mission. It shouldn’t surprise Keith that they blame Shiro for the loss of contact, but he still storms out of the general assembly when he hears it. Shiro is the navigator and soldier in a team full of scientists, so he’s the easy target for blame.

Keith can’t stand to hear it though. Everything turns on a dime within the Garrison, and instead of Shiro the golden boy and prodigal navigator, it’s Shiro, the young and green cadet. They smear his name in the mud, and before two months have passed they declare the whole team lost, and the mission failed. Failed due to Shiro.

Keith _hates_ them for it. Shiro is everything to him, he’s the reason Keith even got and stayed at the Garrison. Keith had dreams of the two of them on missions together, of following in Shiro’s footsteps, studying hard to be a tracker and one day navigator. But in one fail swoop all of that has been taken from him. It’s too much, the grief and anger and meaninglessness.

He does the only thing he can think to do, he takes his meager belongings and flees the Garrison.

No one tries to stop him or even comes looking for him. It’s the orphan’s lot, and that’s just as well because Keith wouldn’t go back even if they asked. Instead he finds his way back to his father’s old cabin far out on the eastern border of the Kerberos Woods. He hasn’t seen it since he was a kid, but his sense of navigation has never failed him.

When he finds it, the cabin has surely seen better days, but it suits Keith’s mood just fine. He settles in but does very little to make it livable again.

His time is better spent hunting with his trusty knife, then crafting with the scraps he does not eat. The crafts he does make he takes to the edges of town and trades for what he needs to survive. It’s never much, and certainly not a vibrant existence, but it’s enough. It’s enough not to starve or freeze or suffer through hearing one more Garrison soldier slander Shiro.

 _Shiro_.

Sometimes within the quiet space of the cabin, Keith even finds himself dreaming of Shiro.

At first it’s nice to see him, nice to touch him even in a dream. The waking starts to hurt though. They all are set during the good Garrison times, he and Shiro hanging out or sparring. They end with Shiro disappearing into the woods, or monsters with dark, spindly hands reaching out of the trees and snatching him up.

On the nights when the dreams are too near, Keith wakes, heart pounding, and foregoes the rest of his sleep. Instead he goes to the back porch of the cabin and sits on the steps, staring out at the blackness of the forest.

On this night the quarter moon is above the forest, bright in a cloudless sky. The trees are still completely dark. _Impenetrable_.

Keith stares so long at that thick night that eventually he imagines he can see shapes moving just inside the tree line. He wears he can almost make out a beast, an evil, staring back at him with luminescent eyes.

Maybe it would scare someone else, but Keith’s so far past fear. He also knows that whatever haunts the forest stays within its boundary, so it can look all it wants, it won’t hurt him. He reaches up to touch Shiro’s dog tags that hang around his neck, they’re cold and grounding. He stares back, willing the forest to give him back what he’s lost.

##

A month passes, then another. Keith falls into the routine of living alone, but finds himself more and more often seated on the porch at night, watching. There’s something that draws him, even if he can’t explain it. It waxes and wanes with the moon, the strongest pull when the moon is full and bright.

On one such night, Keith is leaned against the porch banister, nearly drowsing, when a spot of color catches his attention.

It’s a man, near translucent against the stark night. He’s broad shouldered and muscled.

 _Shiro_.

Keith sees the figure for just a second before it plunges into the woods and disappears. Keith stares, wide-eyed and fully awake now, but it’s like it never was. Not even the trees or brush move as far as Keith can tell.

It would be absolute insanity to believe that it’s Shiro, to believe that the pale shape of a man’s back could be anything other than a figment of Keith’s wishful mind.

And yet…

Keith thinks on it for days. He reasons back and forth and back and forth.

Then he goes into his father’s old office and pulls everything off the corkboard. He makes a quick note of the date and time and pins it to the board.

##

Keith becomes obsessed with the forest after that. Every night he observes it, noting the moon phase, the approximate temperature, and anything that could be relevant. Keith writes it all down for the pin board, then he takes a trip into town and gets photocopies of all the information they have on the Kerberos Woods from the library.

Keith watches and watches and waits, eagerly, for the next full moon.

When it night arrives, he takes his knife and his dinner to the porch, watching the colors of the sunset bleed out into deeper and deeper blues. It’s still, unnaturally so, but that’s not unusual for the forest. Keith sits and watches.

The moon rises slowly, and with it comes the pull. It’s in his chest and belly, prickling down his arms and legs. Keith stands up and takes a step toward the trees and feels it get stronger. It pulls like it wants him to come.

But he won’t. Not until he knows for certain, not until he sees Shiro.

Keith is not foolish. He knows there’s something in those trees, and surely a pull is not enough to make him think it’s friendly.

He waits for hours that evening, but nothing else happens. He has the impression of being watched, the thought of things slithering and stalking just beyond the black tree line, but nothing materializes. Instead he whittles away the hours testing the pull, making notes, and then carving down some wood into figurines. Keith does a bear, a wolf, and a fox before his eyes begin to dip in exhaustion.

He gives it a few more minutes, but it’s late and clearly the forest has nothing to offer him this time. Keith sets the figurines down on the porch and takes his plate and knife back inside.

In the morning the wolf figurine has disappeared.

##

The next two months are much of the same. Keith skims by by making things and hunting the meager offerings of the area. Not much comes out of the forest, but occasionally there is a rabbit or two. He keeps adding to his notes, and occasionally leaves things on the porch.

It’s only on the full moon that things go missing.

Keith doesn’t give up though, and three months later he is rewarded.

He’s grown laxer over the months, eyes dipping to the woodwork in his hands more than the forest. He’s gotten quite good at detail work with his knife, but it often takes more concentration. It is, in fact, only a sizzling prickle of sensation up the back of his neck that cues Keith to look up.

When he does—

It’s a man. For sure. There’s nothing else that can be known from the distance, but Keith’s heart leaps anyway. He’s pale, white haired.

Shiro had black hair.

Keith stumbles up off the pouch, dropping the figurine but keeping the knife. He moves toward the trees, toward the man. The figure is paused just at the edge of the trees, and it seems as if he’s looking right at Keith.

“Hey!” The word comes out of Keith’s throat before he can think better of it.

It breaks whatever spell there is between them. Between one blink and the next the figure— the apparition— is gone.

And Keith is almost _certain_ it was Shiro.

Maybe that’s madness. Maybe it’s loss and grief and loneliness. Maybe it’s what he needs to believe to go on.

Keith is already several steps out from his house. The pull is hooked like a lure through his ribcage. He keeps moving forward, step after step. The forest is drawing him in, his own curiosity is drawing him in.

He doesn’t know if he’ll get another chance, there’s no way of knowing if he’ll see the person again. Keith could wait, could gather more information for the pinboard.

But it’s been months. If he waits and there isn’t another sighting—

And then he realizes he’s already halfway to the forest. The pull is near overwhelming this close, like a gravity. Before him is just a black maw of trees, hungry to swallow him.

He can’t stop thinking about the man. What if it had been Shiro? What if it had been something less… corporeal?

A terrifying prospect, but worse would be to never know. Worse would be too afraid to try. Keith cannot be afraid, he’d do anything for a chance to get Shiro back. Keith is strong and quick and smart. He has his knife, he has tracking skills.

He is still walking toward the tree line.

He’s never been this close, no one ever gets this close and returns to tell the tale. Keith grips the knife tight and keeps walking forward. He feels the dog tags bouncing against his skin. It helps.

Then he’s at the edge of the woods, and the pull is extraordinary. All his senses are buzzing, his skin prickling. There’s an energy that is almost tangible.

Keith takes a deep breath and makes the decision. He steps into the trees.

The moonlight which had been guiding him all at once disappears. Instead of white light, around him a purple kind of light blooms. It’s in the flowers that dot the forest floor, and it’s floating as pinpricks through the air as what appear to be fireflies. Keith couldn’t see any of this just a moment ago, but inside the tree line, all of it unfolds around him. He walks through the brush, deeper in. The trees are still an unnatural black, but the purple bioluminescence is strangely beautiful.

When Keith holds up his knife before him, the runes in the handle are glowing that same purple. They’ve never done that before. Something about it all is wrong. There’s a part of him that’s still arguing that he should go back, but an even if a larger part of him that thinks it’s much too late for that.

Keith walks deeper in, guided only by the purple glow. There’s a hum from the fireflies, but otherwise the forest is deadly silent.

It’s that silence that makes the crack of a branch all the more noticeable. It’s far off, but Keith still jumps and whips around to look in the direction he thinks it has come from.

And sees the man. There for a moment, and then gone behind black trees. Keith isn’t even sure it actually is a man in the end, but it is a something brighter than the purple glow of the flowers and fireflies. It’s a lead.

Quickly he stumbles through the trees in that direction. Shiro’s name is on his tongue, but he tries to hold it in. Keith walks and walks, listening for something other than himself in the woods. He can feel it, a great many somethings with their eyes on him lurking just out of view. It makes his skin itch, and he tries not to let it get to him. The whole time he keeps his knife up and at the ready.

Still, Keith is hyperaware of his unprotected back. Of his thin clothing, and how little visibility there actually is should something try to attack him.

He thinks a few times he glimpses something white through the trees, but each time it’s only a split second. Enough that it could just be a trick of his eyes. Already Keith’s eyes feel strained from trying to see through the thick darkness.

This was a bad idea, a very, very bad idea.

Still he goes on anyway, seeking. He tries to track and navigate, tries to mark trees he passes, but already he can tell it’s impossible. This is not a natural forest, there’s no way of reliably telling directions.

Even if he doesn’t find Shiro though, if he lasts until morning he can climb a tree and figure out which way is out. It’s not an elegant method of navigation, but it should be more reliable than this.

Another sound jars him out of his thoughts. This one is close. _Behind him_.

Keith turns, knife ready, but there’s nothing there. His heart pounds hard in his chest. He takes a gulping breath to try and steady himself.

“You’re okay,” he says quietly to himself. “It’s fine.”

There’s another rustle of leaves to his other side. He spins to face it, but there’s nothing.

Then, a soft susurrus. It grows in volume until Keith can tell that it’s laugher. Sinister laughter.

Out of the gloom comes a figure. It’s not Shiro, not even broad like the figure he’d seen before. This one is tall and slender, cloaked. From the dark hole of the hood are two sickly yellow, glowing eyes.

The laughter falls away. “Hello, little one.”

It’s a woman. Or maybe it isn’t, but the voice is an oil slick, and Keith can feel it seep down into him. He steps back as she steps closer, and he raises his knife.

“My, what sharp teeth you have,” she says. “But don’t you know better than to be wandering the woods at night?”

“Stay back!” He swipes at her, but it doesn’t seem to deter her at all. She steps forward once more and Keith steps back. Nothing about her feels worldly, and it suddenly seems like a bad idea to try and take a swipe with his knife. The odds that the blade will just pass right through her is distinctly not zero.

“Come here, I’ll help you fine the way my dear.” She’s close enough now that her smile stands out. It’s a cruel thing, promising a kind of help that most certainly ends in Keith’s death.

So Keith does the only logical thing left to him: he turns and runs.

“Flee my pretty,” the woman calls after him, “but I am not the only thing in these woods.”

Her laughter follows Keith as he sprints through the trees. He hears it for far longer than he should be able to, and even after that he’s not sure if it’s completely gone. It seems to stick in the space between his ears like a poison.

He runs. It’s difficult in the darkness, and more than once Keith trips over brush and fallen trees. Low branches drag at him, scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t stop. There’s other sounds among the trees now, the sound of pursuers. Keith tries to look around, to check his tail, but the dark is so thick in some places it’s impossible to see more than two feet behind him.

The only thing he knows is that a thing, maybe many a thing, is following.

He runs and runs. His hand is painfully stuck around his knife, and his lungs start to burn, but he doesn’t stop. There’s nothing to direct him by, no way of knowing which direction, if any, he is running.

But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is surviving the next few seconds, then the next, then the next. Survivalism is all about compartmentalizing, and keeping one’s focus on the most pressing issue at hand.

And that, for Keith, is whatever is very definitely following him. 

When his lungs begin to really struggle and his legs are close to cramping, Keith uses the last of his energy to speed up. It’s hard to tell if he makes any gains, but he does his best. Around a cropping of trees he hooks his arm around a branch and pivots around.

It’s a hard pull on his shoulder with the momentum, but it gets him facing his pursuer unexpectedly.

His knife is up and he bares his teeth only to find—

Not the witch woman, but wolves. Strange wolves. It’s an entire pack of them, built like a cross between man and beast. They’re lit only by the purple flowers, but Keith can tell they dwarf him by several feet, bigger than any wolf should really be. Their teeth, which are on display, are the length of his fingers, their paws are lengthened and end in razor claws.

Keith’s knife looks laughable in comparison. He could perhaps jam it into one of them, but it would be while they tore into him, and even then he’s not confident it would do any damage.

This is bad.

Very, very bad.

And most certainly his death.

He casts a look around, and they’ve encircled him, their eyes glow a white-yellow.

Keith wonders if that’s what he’s been seeing in the woods.

One wolf steps out from the rest, it has bright white fur except for one leg that glows with that same purple the rest of the forest has. The wolf is bigger than most of the others, and it’s easy to imagine it as the leader.

Except then, from Keith’s right, a wolf lunges for him. He sees only the flash of fangs and hears the snarl before there’s another bone-shuddering growl and something knocks into Keith. It kicks all the air out of his lungs and he hits the ground hard. Above him the alpha has intercepted the other wolf, and the two are snarling and fighting viciously. Keith crawls desperately away to avoid being stepped on.

The other wolves have all moved back and are not paying him any attention, eyes locked on the fight. Keith looks around for an opening and spies a break in the circle from where the wolf sprang. It’s his only chance.

The fight above him horrible sounding. There’s snarls and the snap of teeth around bones. Keith crawls toward the opening, trying to stay low and avoid being seen.

Then he’s out. His whole body is shaking badly, but a few feet past the wolves he stumbles up onto his feet. The wolves are still fighting, and the sound covers his retreat. He’s tired from the previous run, but the adrenaline and fear bolster him.

Keith knows the smartest thing to do now would be to climb a tree, but he’s far from his peak condition, and looking at the trees he passes, most don’t have thick low branches. Keith puts some distance between himself and the wolves and then decides to give it a try anyway.

The two first branches snap under his weight, and the third is too high for him to pull his tired body up onto. He needs to put the knife away for use of both hands, but his fist is practically locked around it.

The fifth tree he gets up two branches, but then suddenly the white wolf is there. The wolf’s jaw snaps around the limb and tugs it down with a fast jerk. Before Keith can think to leap for the higher branch, the wood beneath him is gone. He hits the ground.

It’s just the one wolf this time. There’s blood smeared across his snout, but other than that he looks no worse for wear. It didn’t even take him long to take down the other wolf. He’s powerful and now he’s come alone for Keith.

The implication is clear: Keith is _his_.

Keith goes to hold up the knife, only to find it gone. His hand must have unlocked in the fall. Without taking his eyes off the wolf, Keith tries to sift around in the leaves around him.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hisses, coming up empty.

The wolf comes forward slowly, eyes locked on him. He’s not growling or snarling now, but that hardly makes him any friendlier. Keith shuffles away, and when the wolf doesn’t immediately lunge he keeps going. When he gets to his feet, it’s with a luck that he doesn’t understand.

Something hits him just as he turns to run though, knocking him back down.

It’s the wolf. _Playing with him._

Still, Keith can’t stop the flight instinct, not before what is most certainly his end. He scrambles back onto his knees and then feet. Every part of his body hurts, but he pushes that away. He gets just a yard before the wolf knocks him down again. This time the wolf is above Keith, lowering his jaw down. Keith shuts his eyes, but seconds pass and the only thing that touches his skin is a cold nose.

It snuffs against his cheek and then throat. Keith makes a low, terrified sound. It breathes hot against him, and then those teeth latch onto the fabric of his shirt. That’s Keith’s animal brain cue to move. He shuffles down, and when the shirt still in the wolf’s teeth pulls, it sheers immediately. He squirms from beneath the wolf, shirtless but not dead.

He gets only a step or two before the wolf has pushed him back down. Keith’s on his belly, the forest floor scraping his naked chest, but he keeps trying to get away. Even if this is a game to the beast, the longer Keith is breathing, the longer he has to think of… _something_.

He misses his knife with a horrid ache.

Then a paw steps onto the center of Keith’s back.

It’s not the wolf’s full weight, because that would certainly crush Keith, but he does feel the claws prick against his skin. If he moves now it will surely tear into him. He freezes, panting against the earth. The nose of the wolf touches Keith’s neck again, and the beast sniffs him over. It’s invasive and terrifying, but Keith can’t move.

When it seems satisfied, the nose moves down. Following it are the claws, more dexterous than an animals are, it feels more like hands on him. Keith cringes at the lines of fire they draw forth. It’s not purposeful injury, and maybe hasn’t even broken skin, but Keith’s senses are at such high alert it’s hard to tell.

What he does feel then, is the fabric of his leggings giving way under those claws. A wild thought comes into Keith’s mind at that. It’s something he never would consider, but—

The paw comes up off him, and Keith is automatically getting himself up. His clothes are in tatters, and he tries to hold on to them, but it’s a lost cause, nearly tripping him.

It feels somehow worse than if the wolf had just snapped its jaws around Keith’s throat. Now he’s nearly nude, facing a wolf that is starting to look to him hungry for something else.

“You— you can’t.”

It’s useless to speak, but Keith can’t help it. This situation is so out of his control he doesn’t know what else to do. He steps back and the wolf watches. It’s eyes are dark and fathomless. Keith’s so tired, but there’s no way he’ll go easy. He turns his head just enough to scope out the best direction. It’s dark everywhere, endless trees and brush.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, a purple glow.

It could be a flower in the forest floor, or a firefly resting, but Keith doesn’t think so. His heart kicks up, and he tries to get a better look without taking his eyes off the wolf.

It’s the handle of his knife. It has to be.

Keith takes a deep breath and then shifts all at once and sprints toward it. There’s a growl as Keith bends and scoops up the knife and a handful of dead leaves with it. He’s still running as he gets a firm hand on the knife and turns to face the beast bearing down on him.

A swing with the knife only hits teeth. There’s a sharp clash, and the reverberation knocks the knife clear out of Keith’s hand. He goes down on his belly with the force of it, and the wolf is on him. He squirms beneath the weight of the fur, ignoring the snarling as those strange paw-hands curl around his sides. They grip with claws and drag Keith in.

“No!”

The knife is in front of him peeking out of the leaves. Keith tries to reach for it, but the wolf pulls him further away. The claws wrap around his hips, dwarfing him and prickling at his tender belly. Keith can feel the wolf everywhere, fur against his naked skin, a heaving hot breath overhead. It pulls Keith up onto his knees even as he fights. He tries kicking back and even makes contact, but there’s little injuring force he can have on a beast this big.

Then fur touches the back of his legs, presses flush against it.

“No, no!” Keith’s hands drag at the ground, trying to pull away but it’s useless. He feels something slick and burning hot slide between his thighs. He knows immediately what it is, and what the wolf wants from him.

And he’s powerless.

There’s a graveled sound from the creature as it rubs itself against Keith. It pulls back and thrusts again, this time getting its cock pushing across Keith’s ass. It leaves a wetness behind that makes Keith gasp. One of the claws moves further down to Keith’s hips, and then Keith’s legs are being shoved apart.

He tries to stop it, but the wolf presses in close, using its width to keep Keith like that.

The next thrust is more demanding and closer to—

Keith hisses, hitting and biting and squirming in the hold. Even when he lands a solid blow, the wolf doesn’t so much as flinch. It’s focused only on getting what it wants. It fucks against Keith’s ass again, huge and hot. Keith shudders at the thought, at how he’s going to take something like that.

Because he is going to have to take it. He knows it now with a horrible certainty. With every thrust against him the wolf is getting closer to finding the right angle to fuck into him.

Keith cries out when the next thrust has the cock striking his rim and then glancing off. The wolf seems to realize it too, because it gets more excited. There’s a rumbling growl and the claws tighten and raise Keith up by his hips.

Keith shouts his alarm, and his hands go immediately to the earth to keep him from knocking his face against the forest brush. The dog tags clatter loudly as he’s moved. The next fuck against Keith is the same, grinding wet heat against his hole.

He yells and curses and tries to claw at the earth. It’s useless, all useless. He’s too small and the beast is too big, too strong. Even if it wasn’t, the teeth and claws are a deterrent against pulling too severely against the hold.

Then the wolf thrusts forward with the right angle, and the tip of it’s cock presses in.

“ _No!”_ The pain is immediate, Keith’s much too small for—

But the wolf doesn’t care. He has his prize now, and he’s not about to give Keith the careful treatment. Like any other wild animal, the wolf just pushes in and in and _in_. Keith screams at the size, at how the cock is forced into him, unprepared. It doesn’t stop. The wolf pants above him, enjoying what can only be a very tight clutch around its cock.

There are tears in Keith’s eyes, and he grits his teeth to try and stop the sounds. He’s never taken more than a few fingers and a toy. This wolf is so much _more_. It’s forcing, tearing. Something wicked in the back of Keith’s mind is buzzing. It’s that pull, and he knows immediately it’s coming from the wolf.

It’s the wolf that’s been drawing Keith in.

Drawing him in for _this_.

Just as it’s nearly too much, and Keith feels as if he’s going to break apart completely, the wolf stops. Keith gasps for air, can barely breathe around how big the cock is. It’s so big, so much bigger than a human would be. Barely anything has happened, and he already feels wrecked beyond reason. He moans pitifully in pain.

There’s some shuffling around him, and the wolf’s claws reposition to hold his hips. The cold nose touches Keith’s throat. Then there’s a drag out, the cock pulling out of him with a relief that almost gets a sob from Keith.

Except that a second later he understands it’s not a true relief. _No_. The wolf pulls out only to fuck back in. Only to shove his cock deeper into Keith. Keith shouts, chokes on how the cock fills him back up. It’s too much, too much—!

But then it seems as if the wolf is tired of playing. Like any other dog on its bitch, suddenly it just starts _fucking_.

It ruts into Keith savagely, covering him completely, burying itself in Keith’s hole. It pants hungrily against his neck, claws digging in as it pulls Keith back onto its thick cock. It’s too fast, too much, but—

Even as Keith’s eyes are filled with tears, he feels his own traitorous cock start to harden. The wolf is staying deep and it hurts _, it does_ , but also something about it is good. It’s awful in that way. Keith doesn’t want it, but that buzzing has spread out from his core and down his overwrought nerves. He feels bad and wrong, and he can’t stop it. The wolf takes him, uses him for it’s own relief, and some part of him _likes it_.

The beast is working up a punishing rhythm that it’s clearly enjoying. Keith can hear the slick sound of their fucking, his dog tags clinking against each other, and the harsh gasp of his own breathing. Keith tries weakly to do anything, but it’s so much effort just to keep his hands beneath him so his face doesn’t get crushed into the forest floor.

At some point he just stops trying altogether. The wolf has him, and will use him until it’s finished. Until—

Keith’s cock is completely hard now. It’s swinging lewdly beneath him, slapping against his belly as the wolf fucks him. He flushes hot at the shame of it, of getting turned on by being fucked by an animal. Keith can’t even pretend he came into the woods innocent. This definitely wasn’t an outcome he imagined, but he knew it would be dangerous. He knew the pull could be friend or foe and he still—

A tongue laps at his shoulder. Keith shudders, automatically clenching. The wolf gives a pleased growl at how it makes him tighten up on the cock. He does it again, slathering Keith in saliva. When Keith doesn’t clench again, the wolf touches what can only be teeth against Keith’s skin.

The implication is clear. Keith shuts his eyes tight and tries to pretend he’s anywhere else. He tries to pretend this isn’t happening.

Still, he clenches on the cock rutting into him. The wolf gives that same sound of approval.

Keith hates it. Hates how it makes him hot, how the buzzing around them rises in pitch. It’s no longer just inside Keith, but vibrating in the air around them. Keith’s cock is so heavy now, and he realizes just how close he is to coming. Coming from how the wolf is taking him.

It’s shameful. _Disgusting_.

He cries against his hands, aching and needy and hating himself for it. He hates himself for coming here, for falling into this trap, for getting hard at how deep this animal is fucking him. He didn’t ask for this, but if it’s happening he didn’t fight hard enough. He could have made the wolf angry enough for violence.

But instead he practically let it undress him and line its cock up to his little hole. Now he’s even clenching around the cock, making it better for the animal.

 _Fuck_.

The wolf starts moving faster, leaning harder into Keith. Keith’s face hits the ground, and he has just enough wherewithal to turn to the side so he doesn’t breathe in dead leaf matter. The wolf is driving in brutally hard now, full strokes that strike so deep Keith can feel it bulge his belly.

And Keith notices there’s something else. There’s a pushing against his abused rim, the wolf trying to get deeper inside him. Trying to—

The word comes to Keith out of the dark, and he cries out when he realized what it is.

A knot.

The wolf is trying to _knot him_.

There’s no way of seeing, no way of knowing how big it is, but Keith knows he can’t take it. He’s at his limit, he absolutely _cannot_ —

But the wolf doesn’t care. It doesn’t care about Keith or what Keith wants. It only wants to bury itself in Keith and breed him like a bitch. As small as he is, the tight clutch must feel good.

“Please! Ple—ase, no!” His voice is broken just like the rest of him, and he knows it’s useless to plea, but the words just fall out. The wolf only growls, pleased, and continues to pound into his hole. With every strike the knot hits his rim and _hurts_. It’s pushing in, being forced in, and Keith can barely stand it. There’s wetness everywhere, the tongue on his shoulder, the slick wetness from the cock, and Keith’s tears he can’t seem to quell. It makes him feel dirty, disgusting. He’s covered in wolf, soon to be stuffed full of him as well.

Still it’s ramping up and up. The claws dig in and teeth graze Keith’s skin. The wolf is hungry to finish, hungry to bury its cock deep and breed him. All Keith’s cries fall on deaf ears, only seem to encourage the wolf to fuck him harder, deeper.

The buzzing is nearly all Keith can hear now. It’s tingling and drugging, pulling some of the pain away and twisting it wickedly. Keith’s cock throbs as it bobs, swollen and near bursting. He knows then that he’s going to come, that he’s—

The knot on the next strike pushes half in, and Keith’s whole body convulses. His orgasm hits him brutal, almost cruel, and the wolf doesn’t stop. He thrusts in and in, forcing Keith’s orgasm, forcing his body to bounce on his cock. Keith comes sobbing, wetness striping his belly and even his face with the motion. It feels good and wrong and he doesn’t want it, can’t be enjoying this.

The wolf snarls and pushes and something in Keith _breaks_.

The knot sinks all the way in.

Keith howls, whole body shocked and buzzing. The wolf crushes him down into the earth, forcing its cock just that bit deeper as it starts to come. Keith feels the pressure immediately, a scorching heat inside him filling and filling. Teeth latch onto his shoulder in a light bite that he barely feels over just how stuffed his hole is.

The wolf comes and comes, staying deep and crooning out its enjoyment inside him. Keith can barely breathe beneath the weight, tries just to hold himself together as he feels the pressure build. It feels like it lasts forever. The wolf is everywhere, making him take it, ruining him.

Eventually the weight lifts, and the wolf gets up. The knot stays inside Keith, locked firm. It forces Keith back up onto his knees, practically hanging on the knot like a needy bitch. It’s a humiliation to add on top of everything else, and he hates it. Has no choice but to take it.

His belly is swollen, the pressure painful from being plugged. If Keith could spare the hand, he knows he could be able to feel the bulge, feel the sheer size of the cock still inside him.

But he _did it_. There’s a small thing to hold on to, so Keith does. He needs it so he doesn’t crack completely and lose himself. Soon the knot will release and then Keith—

Keith will somehow find the direction back home and leave this terrible nightmare behind. The buzzing now has returned to what it was, a mere inkling in the back of Keith’s mind. He closes his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the hulking beast above him in post-coital bliss. Keith waits.

It takes some time, but eventually the knot does go down. Keith winces as the cock slides out of him. He feels and hears the slop of wetness that follows, knows he must be absolutely gaping. It is obscene, and he wishes there was some way to cover himself. His clothing, even tattered is lost somewhere in the woods. He has nothing but the dog-tags to him now.

But when he tries to move, everything hurts and Keith can’t even imagine trying to put pressure on the area to sit up. He doesn’t know how he is going to summon the energy to leave.

And stars help him if he runs into any other wolves in this woods.

He pants against the leaves, tries to conjure something in him to get up. After too, too long he does. His legs shake and his whole body screams at him, but Keith pushed up onto his knees. He can still feel the wolf’s presence, and when he turns his head the beast is there, eyes on him.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to attack, it only watches. Keith reaches for a nearby tree and uses it to get himself to his feet. The wolf doesn’t do anything. Maybe there should still be fear, but Keith’s just too exhausted for it. The wolf will kill him or it won’t, and in either of those situations he’s going to at least _try_ to get away.

Keith picks a direction and starts a shambling walk. He gets only a few paces before the leaves rustle behind him. The wolf is suddenly at his side, so close the fur brushes Keith’s naked skin. He wants to cry. His thighs are slick with come, dripping with every step, but the wolf doesn’t leave him. It seems almost… helpful the way it stays close to support Keith. Maybe it would be helpful if it wasn’t the thing responsible for Keith’s condition.

They walk for a while like this until Keith’s body starts to truly give out on him. He leans heavier on the wolf who doesn’t seem to mind. When eventually Keith has to rest, the wolf stops and watches him collapse back to the ground. Keith stays on his belly even as it shames him, because he just can’t put pressure on his sorest of parts.

The forest is quiet and Keith’s exhausted. His eyes drift closed and he promises himself it’s only for a few minutes, just to garner his strength to continue…

He wakes to the shock of something hot and wet lapping at his hole. Keith groans, groggy and confused, trying to move away. The tree litter prods painfully into his bare chest, but the licking continues.

It’s the wolf.

“S-stop,” he says.

The wolf doesn’t listen. It noses at him, licking and slurping obscenely. Keith tries to close his legs, but it’s useless when the wolf simply paws them back apart with his brute strength. It hurts, but it also feels good, or maybe it’s just the buzzing that’s starting to drone louder and louder. More awake now Keith can feel it once again in the air.

He has a terrible feeling that it won’t stop at licking, that there’s still more the wolf wants from him.

Keith tries to fight then, tries to get away, but the attempts are a much poorer show now. The knife is… somewhere, and Keith’s muscles shake when he tries to just lift his arm to shove the beast away.

There’s not even any growling from the wolf this time. He must know that he has Keith truly now, exhausted prey beneath a relentless predator.

When the wolf starts nosing Keith up onto his knees, he just goes with it. The buzzing is an addicting arousal inside him, and he already knows the longer he fights the worse it’s going to be. Easier just to let the wolf have him until it’s satisfied. Then he can get away.

Yeah. That’s what he’d been doing before he stopped to rest. He didn’t forget.

This time when the wolf mounts, it is easier. Keith’s still slick, stuffed with come, so the cock slides in without resistance. From the beast comes a rumbling sound that Keith can only interpret as approval.

The fucking in return this time is less frantic. It’s still nothing like a human, but the wolf rocks into him with a little less aggression, a little more like it plans to draw it out. Keith closes his eyes and tries not to think about it. He can hear the squelching as the cock buries itself in his messy hole, but he tries to ignore it. It hurts, but once again the heightened buzzing is making it tolerable. It’s making Keith’s cock twitch and start to get hard.

The wolf claws gentler at him, holding him still and chasing its pleasure. Keith breathes and breathes. He holds in sounds he wants to make. He feels thoroughly owned as the wolf takes him, huffing in his ear and rutting deep inside him.

Come drips down Keith’s thighs and makes everything slick and tacky. The wolf rocks him on its cock, taking its time, using Keith as a fuckhole. He’s so loose the wolf doesn’t even have to try to shove in his knot when it starts to plump, it fits nicely in Keith’s ruined hole. It plugs him like he was meant for it.

The end is the hardest as the wolf leans heavier on him as it begins to lose itself to the pleasure. The knot pops in and out now that Keith’s stretched, and Keith can tell the beast enjoys the feeling of rubbing his knot into a tighter space. Once or twice Keith clenches just as it’s pushing in and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure.

When the knot finally sticks, there’s a sizzling electricity through Keith. The pain/pleasure thing is trickling through him, filling him just as sure as the wolf is. As the wolf starts coming a second time, Keith humiliatingly reaches for his own cock. It’s hard and leaking as he fists it. He can’t help himself, he needs it.

It takes only a few strokes and the feel of that heat dumping into him to make him come. At the angle it shoots onto Keith’s own chest again, making a mess. There’s a lick to the back of his neck that feels like praise and his cock jerks once last time at that.

When Keith collapses, it’s the same as before. He’s stuck on the knot, but this time his hand does palm along his belly. He feels the swell of cock and come inside him, making a noticeable bulge. It makes him wonder if he’ll ever get home or if he’s destined to be this wolf’s bitch now.

He can almost see it— being hauled back to a cave, made to stay on his hands and knees while the wolf spends itself time and time again in him like its own personal cocksleeve. Keith would be good for nothing but warming a wolf’s cock, a knothole always ready to be bred.

He would even enjoy it after a time. It’s been just a few hours and he’s already getting off on it.

The thoughts shame him even as they kind of turn him on. He cries out when the knot finally releases.

He doesn’t bother getting up when the wolf releases him, so tired Keith can do little more than move a prodding stick before he lets himself succumb. Before any time at all, he feels consciousness slip away.

##

The clink of metal wakes Keith. He’s lying on his side, sore and numb in equal measure. There’s something warm and furry against his body, but a cold and wet thing is nosing at his chest.

He comes awake slowly, too tired to have any alarm left in him. He opens his eyes to see the wolf by the glow of it’s strange paw. It laps at the dog tags Keith is wearing. Keith looks down to see it’s likely because of the mess he made all over himself earlier.

And that’s nice, the wolf cleaning him up.

 _Nice_.

He blinks drowsily at the beast. It is kind of a beautiful creature when it’s not threatening to kill Keith. If he has to be the wolf’s plaything, well at least this wolf isn’t terrifying to look at, objectively. There had been a few in that pack who’d been mangled into disfigurement.

Keith lays there and watches as the wolf licks him clean.

Except even after Keith’s clean it keeps coming back to the tags. Eventually Keith reaches up and closes his hand around them, he doesn’t want the wolf to get any ideas about chewing the metal. It can have all of Keith it wants, but it cannot have these.

They look at each other. The wolf seems strangely… present. It noses at Keith’s hand.

“Not for you.” Keith’s throat is dry, his voice scratchy.

The wolf noses again. Keith doesn’t let go.

“No.”

There’s intelligence in its face. Keith knows this wolf isn’t just an animal, as much as it plays at one. This forest is… otherly, and so is this beast. It may not speak Keith’s language, but he knows somehow that it understands him well enough.

It doesn’t give up though. It keeps nudging at Keith until he rolls over onto his back from the force. The move sends a spike of pain up Keith’s spine from the abuse he’s taken. He really needs to get away. He needs to not lay here helpless.

Fortunately or not, the wolf has forgotten its pleasure for the moment. It keeps trying to get at the dog tags instead. It’s not as aggressive as it could be, there’s no teeth or growling, but it’s still insistent.

“Anything else but these,” Keith says. “These are Shiro’s. He—“

The wolf pulls back to look at him. There’s an oddness to it that makes the hair on Keith’s arms rise. It’s similar to the buzzing sensation, but doesn’t inspire fear. Or maybe Keith’s just beyond the fear at this point.

The wolf steps away from him, and the air between them sort of ripples. The buzzing comes back as a full-bodied drone so loud that Keith curls in to cover his ears. It’s not a sound really, so it doesn’t help, but his brain doesn’t understand that. All it understands is a sudden sense of _wrongness_.

Fur touches Keith’s side and he shivers at it. There’s a purple glow behind his eyelids, but he doesn’t look. Suddenly he can’t bear to open them, everything is a too-much assault on his senses.

The wolf gets him once again on his back, and Keith feels it step over him. It settles down onto him not with any real weight, but just enough that Keith can feel its presence everywhere. He gasps as the buzzing rises, at the claws that curl around his thighs and part them once more.

Keith almost can’t even care that it’s going to take him again. The noise in his head is so much more _present_ that he doesn’t even notice when the cock slips back into him. It’s only the rocking that gets through and the weight of the thing on top of him.

The buzz gets louder and louder until Keith’s teeth are chattering with the vibrations. It’s in his bones, in his skull. Weight shifts and the wolf takes the opportunity to grab at the unguarded dog tags.

Keith yells. He pries his hands off his ears and tries to grab them back. There’s some blind scuffling because the excruciating sensation won’t let him open his eyes. They fight over the tags until the wolf’s hands get his and press him down into the leaves. It fucks into him harder with a grunt, fingers lacing into Keith’s.

Another shift and weight drops onto Keith, pushing the air out of his lungs. He chokes on the swirl of it all, and the wolf ruts into him, panting.

Just as it begins to tear at Keith’s mind, the sound snaps, cut off. It ripples once more, like waves against a shore. He feels them run over him, each one softer than the last.

And then it’s gone. He gasps to get air, to orient himself. Atop him the wolf is breathing just as hard, his face against Keith’s throat.

Keith flexes his fingers to realize they’re still pinned. Pinned by slim digits that—

_That are not paws._

Against his skin no longer is fur, but skin. The weight and shape of a human body is on top of him, not beast. Keith’s eyes fly open at the same time the head picks itself up, and the fingers unlace from his.

He blinks, wide-eyed and disbelieving at Shiro staring down at him.

 _Shiro_.

The man looks just as stunned.

“K-keith?” His voice is ragged, but undeniably his.

“Shiro?”

They come to the same realization simultaneously: Shiro is still inside him.

The man scrambles up immediately, pulling out. Keith can’t help the groan of soreness.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. _Keith_! I didn’t— I wasn’t— Keith what—“

Shiro is sitting bare-assed in the leaf litter, looking absolutely horrified. At once Keith categories the changes in him from the last time Keith had seen him. There are tons of wounds scattered over his body, including a significant scar across the bridge of his nose. His hair, once all black has gone snow white. His right arm is no longer flesh, but metal. Parts of it glow that ominous purple, the same as the—

All of that slams into Keith at the same time. The wolf, Shiro. Shiro missing, the haunting of the woods.

It’s unbelievable. It steals the air from Keith’s lungs, chokes him with both horror and joy. The only thing he can think to do is to crawl over and throw himself into Shiro’s arms.

It doesn’t matter that they’re both naked and filthy. Shiro is alive. _Alive_!

Keith bands his arms around the man and squeezes him tight. Shiro’s fumbling words cuts off. He doesn’t hug Keith back, but freezes stiff. And Keith gets it immediately. He does. Shiro’s… good. So good. And if he’s just realized what has been happening, what he’s done, Keith knows he’ll blame himself. He knows he’ll want to punish himself.

There will time to deal with all that later. Time to talk and unpack it. Right now Keith is just _so fucking happy_ he’s alive.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Already Shiro is shaking his head. “No Keith, I— I hurt you— _oh fuck_ —“

“Stop.” Keith’s voice clips hard. “That’s not— it wasn’t you.”

“It was.”

“Oh, so you’ve always been a huge wolf monster in your free time?”

It’s a bad joke, but it interrupts Shiro’s self-flagellation.

“What?”

“It’s pretty obvious what’s happened. And… I’m not saying we don’t have to deal with that, but fuck, just let me have this right now, I’m just so happy to see you.”

Shiro’s arms then do wind around Keith. Tears burn the corner of Keith’s eyes.

“Keith, I’m so sorry.”

“And I’m sorry for whatever’s happened to you in here.”

“I hurt you. I—“

“Hush.” Keith’s on his lap, twined around him as tightly as he can get. “It really… it shifts the perspective a lot to know it was you.”

“What?”

“I mean you were rough, um, quite rough. But I’m not broken.”

He says it sort of to lighten the mood, but also finds it to be true as he says it. The wolf put him through a lot, certainly scared him, wore him down, but it’s nothing that won’t heal in a weeks’ time. Maybe there will be issues later or nightmares, but that’s not here and now. Here and now he has Shiro. That’s worth _anything_.

“Keith you can’t mean that. You can’t let me off the hook for that.”

“Okay. So you’ll make it up to me.” He pulls back enough to see Shiro’s face. “Even though you being alive is really the only thing I’ve wanted for months.”

Shiro’s expression wobbles between disbelief and guilt, then his eyes catch on the dog tags. They’re lit by the purple glow off his arm.

“You… kept them.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “And no wonder wolf-you was so obsessed with them.”

Shiro reaches with his human hand to touch the metal. “I… they brought me back to myself.”

“Good.”

“Keith, I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry you’ve been alone in these woods. That… whatever has happened to you has happened.”

Keith reaches up to touch the scar on Shiro’s face. Shiro’s gaze on him is intense, but a little less fraught.

“Keith—“

It’s another apology, Keith can hear it in his tone, and he’s already sick of it.

“Kiss me,” Keith says to cut him off.

“—what?”

“First order of making it up to me. If you want of course. We’ve already fucked, so some romance would be nice.”

The ridiculous brashness is worth it just to see Shiro’s expression stutter between shock and interest and dismay.

“Keith, I hurt you.”

“And now I’m asking you to kiss and make it better,” the words are more bold than Keith actually feels, but he needs to get Shiro out of this guilt hole if they’re ever going to move forward. Shiro can be stubborn, so Keith has to be unyielding. “Unless you don’t want to. If it was just a sex thing, then—“

“Keith! Fucking stars!” Shiro pulls him in for a tight hug. “No, no,” he says into Keith’s hair. “It’s never just a sex thing. Never with you. We— this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It was going to be better, something proper when I came back from the mission.”

Keith’s heart beats hard at the words falling from Shiro’s lips. At the implication.

“Keith I… care about you a lot. Too much. But now I’m this… monster and I’ve hurt—“

Keith digs his own hands in painfully to Shiro’s back. “Shut up you big idiot. We’re going to be fine. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

There’s a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know why you’re being so forgiving.”

The confession is on the tip of Keith’s tongue, but he holds it. It’s too twisted a moment to introduce.

“Because I care,” he says instead. “Because I want it to be you and me, like it was before. Or— or more. And… I get that this might be something we have to work on, but I need— Shiro I _need you_ , I need you here, with me. I don’t want you to push me away out of some sense of guilt or shame. That would be worse, it would be— so much _worse_ —“

It cracks through Keith, a pain so different from the time with the wolf. And it’s true, everything he’s just said is absolutely true. Losing Shiro to this, losing him a second time, would be infinitely more painful.

“Oh, oh Keith, Hey, no, it’s okay. We’re okay.”

Shiro pulls back enough to kiss his forehead and then his cheek. One hand wipes at the tears wetting his face. The next kiss is just off center of Keith’s mouth.

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere,” Shiro says.

Keith turns his head and kisses his lips. At once, Shiro kisses him back, clutching tightly. The incredulousness of it is startling. They share kisses back and forth, one after the other, each one more sensitizing than the last.

Keith’s awash with it, lost in the sudden wonder that this— this is happening!

And then he notices a telltale hardness beneath his ass. His own cock is half hard as well. Keith’s naked on his lap, well used already. It wouldn’t take anything just to lift up and sit himself down on—

After everything he shouldn’t want it. He should be listening to the pains of his body, or maybe worried about the scars of his mind, but he isn’t. He feels exuberant with the knowledge that Shiro is alive and here and _kissing him_. He wants everything, absolutely everything with this man. As much as Shiro will let him have.

“Shiro,” He pulls back enough to whisper it against the man’s lips. “I want—“

He shifts against Shiro’s lap to make it clear. It punches a sound out of the man.

“Keith, we can’t. I already— I hurt you!”

Keith kisses him again and again, leading kisses that grow hotter every time. He moves a little on Shiro, knows the man must feel how absolutely filthy he is down there. He hadn’t been thinking of it when he climbed on Shiro’s lap, but it’s an undeniable sensation.

“You took me as the wolf,” Keith says between kisses, “Shouldn’t you take me as you?”

Shiro curses, and Keith can hear it in his voice, that goodness slipping. He presses his advantage looping his arms around the man’s neck and grinding. It comes with a deep ache, but he doesn’t let it deter him.

“Please,” he whispers, “Shiro I need you, I need to feel you. I want this, I always have—“

Shiro turns his face to bury it against Keith’s throat. “Fuck, Keith. You’re killing me. I shouldn’t, after… everything.”

Keith turns his head back to kiss him fiercely. When he pulls back he stares at the man. “Takashi, do you trust me to know my mind?”

There are a dozen emotions that flicker across Shiro’s expression, but then he nods. Because of course he does, he’s the only person who’s ever believed in Keith, who didn’t hold his background or age against him. He believed in Keith before Kerberos, and it’s rapturous to know that it still holds true now.

Keith takes that as his cue to lift up using Shiro’s shoulders as leverage. Shiro breathes shakily against him, but reaches under and lines himself up. The blunt tip presses at his slippery hole, and it’s all he can do to lower back down slowly.

They come together so easily, and Keith nearly sobs. It hurts, but he wants it. He’s never wanted anything more than this. _Them_.

 _“Fuck baby_ ,” Shiro hisses. “You’re so wet.”

“You filled me up.”

It feels wild to say, wilder even to find the memory in his head twist from horror to something arousing. But now it’s _Shiro’s_ come inside him, _Shiro_ who couldn’t help himself, rutting into Keith time and time again. It doesn’t make it right exactly, but nothing about Keith has ever been quite right.

And Shiro has always liked him anyways.

Shiro’s hands fall to his hips, grasping him tight there. Keith can feel the phantom claws, the possessiveness with which the wolf held him. It’s a thrill when those hands do the same, starting to move him on Shiro’s lap.

His cock is not as big like this, and Keith’s glad for it. It’s just enough to feel it, just enough that when they move together Keith can bear the pain and tune into the pleasure. He kisses Shiro clumsily as they start a rhythm, driven by the absolutely obscene sound of their coupling.

“Shiro—“

“ _Ah_ ,” he grunt, beginning to drive deeper now. “This shouldn’t be so fucking hot, you’re so stretched out.”

Keith bites his lip. “I took your knot,” he says.

Shiro swears and fucks up into him hard.

“P-please,” Keith cries. “You don’t have to be good with me, Shiro.” Their movement is beginning to build, something feral taking hold of Shiro. It’s nothing like the wolf, no buzzing or even claws, but it still electrifies Keith. It feels, in some way, like coming full circle. He found what was drawing him in the woods, and now he has it. “ _Just take me_ ,” he whispers.

Shiro does. Driven by the cries and whispers that fall from Keith’s lips, he fucks into Keith harder and harder. It hurts and it makes Keith’s cock throb.

“The wolf knew,” Shiro says. “Knew you were mine.”

“Yes.”

Keith’s nails dig into Shiro’s shoulders, holding on as Shiro ruts into Keith’s abused hole. Everything down there is wet, the come being driven out when Shiro fucks in, but that’s okay because he’s going to give Keith more.

“I’d let you knot me again,” Keith doesn’t mean to say it, but his brain to mouth filter is ruined.

“Yeah?” Shiro fucks in harder, voice dark with want.

“Never taken anything that b-big,” Keith moans the last word, his own end near with the way his fantasies and memories are crashing together.

“Took me so well, gonna— _fuck_ —“

Keith whines at how Shiro is fucking him. “Sh— _please_ — come in me.”

At that the momentum shifts, and Shiro is pushing him over but keeping his cock buried. Keith ends up back on the ground but with Shiro on top of him, ruthlessly fucking into him, panting as he begins to come. The first pulse of it inside him has Keith coming between them, crying out as Shiro buries himself deep. Shiro rides out his pleasure like this, making small delicious noises as he fills Keith up. It’s not as overwhelming as the wolf had been, but Keith is happy for it.

Happy too when Shiro collapse down on top of him, satisfied.

They lay there for a long while, catching their breaths. Then Shiro shifts to prop himself up and look at Keith.

“I’m okay,” Keith says before he can ask. “Happy even, so please don’t kill my buzz.”

Shiro drops his forehead against Keith and lets out a soft laugh.

“You’re the craziest man I’ve ever met.”

“Could say the same about you,” Keith says. “You volunteered to come in here.”

Shiro hums. “Not the best choice in retrospect.”

“Will you tell me all about it?”

The man pushes back to sit up, then offers a hand to help Keith. Keith’s still wobbly when he gets onto his legs, near exhausted from the night. Shiro stays near though, supporting him.

“If you want to know.”

“I do,” Keith says.

Shiro threads his fingers into Keith’s. “Alright, but later. Let’s get out of here first.”

“Navigate us out then?”

Shiro nods, and he does just that.

They find Keith’s knife yards back on the forest floor, and then after that it’s only about an hour walk back out of the forest. It’s a strange walk, naked and sore and dripping, but there’s no wolves or witches to encounter, so Keith doesn’t complain. Shiro leads them flawlessly to the edge of the forest and then out of the trees as if it had always been that easy. Keith knows better, he knows it’s whatever magic that’s been put into Shiro.

“I have a cabin,” Keith says when they walk free of the forest. They’re still holding hands, and Shiro is looking at him as if he’s hung the moon. Keith likes it.

“Lead the way,” Shiro says.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!  
> Been dying to write an explicit red-riding hood fic for a while now. In the post-credits they eventually defeat Haggar and free the bewitched creatures of the forest. Keith def takes the knot again, because he a freak.  
> If you enjoyed this, leave a comment, they always inspire me to keep writing these absolute filth pieces!


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